Where Am I Going?
by writerdude3000
Summary: Oliver Wood has to deal with who he is. Even if it's not who he wants to be. READ AND REVIEW! I SUCK AT SUMMS!
1. Chapter 1

xX... HOPE YOU ENJOY! ...xX

When he'd managed to wipe the dirt from his eyes, Oliver Wood fought to stand up. His legs were shaky and his head throbbed. Wiping his mud covered hands on his scarlet robes he tried to get his eyes to focus. Suddenly, a whooshing sound from behind him brought him back. A figure on a broomstick and just whizzed by and was now turning around to land.

"all right than Oliver?" Said the boy landing, he was at least 3 or 4 years younger than Oliver and had messy black hair.

"Yeah. Think so." Oliver managed to croak out, forcing a lopsided smile, as he cracked his back.

"Nasty fall you took there." The shaggy haired boy said, taking a step closer to Oliver, "Want me to get Madam Pomfrey?" He said in his quiet voice.

Oliver shook his head, "Nah, thanks. I'm good."

"Well."

"Yeah."

There was a somewhat awkward silence than:

"Thanks Harry, really. Let's get back to practice? Right?"

"Yeah." Harry picked up his broom and kicked off.

"Oy! Wood! all right?" A red haired boy shot from 15 or so feet up.

"Good thanks." and Oliver, embarrassed now, got back on his broom and kicked off.

"all right than, you buggers. Let's run the drill again and let's TRY to control the bludgers please Weasleys!"

Someone threw a quaffle at him.

XOXOXOXO

After a long, cleansing shower, Wood, wrapped in a towel, emerged from the bathroom feeling refreshed. Walking back to his dormitory, Wood thought about the exchange that afternoon with Harry. Harry had always been there. Never really a person though, not someone Wood joked with. Harry was someone who saved schools and made outrageous plays. Not a friend.

Reaching the dormitory, Wood stepped in side and pulled off his towel. Searching around for a pair of boxers he squat digging under his bed,

"Bit early to start your career isn't it Wood?" Came a voice from behind him.

Even though it was just a "boys" dorm, no one paraded around naked. Wood spun around, standing up. Lazing about on his bed was Fred Weasley. He could tell because of a small freckle beneath the right side of his nose.

"Didn't see you there, Fred." Oliver stammered. No matter how fit you are, it's always embarrassing to be seen even without a shirt on around your peers. Wood was by no means unattractive. He was lean and fit, muscle-y with short cropped hair.

"Don't mind me," Weasley began, "I'm just enjoying the show."

Oliver never got these comments, was that Fred's way of saying that he was gay? Or was it a joke? He hoped it was the latter.

"Shut it, or I'll beat the shit out of you. Naked." Oliver snapped and, finally finding a pair of tartan boxers, slid them on. He found a white t-shirt and slipped it on over his fit frame.

"Not homophobic are we, Wood?" Weasley coo'd.

"Not in the slightest." He shot back as he dug around his trunk for his book. Coming up again, he had produced thin volume bound in old leather, "I'm getting some great ideas from this lovely little book!" He said happily, "We're going to have an INTENSE practice tomorrow!" He chirped and, plopping down on his bed, started to read, stopping only to scribble notes in a small notepad.

That's me. Oliver thought, reading about the Lucomby Tactic of 1789. Quidditch obsessed Oliver Wood. Tough Oliver Wood. Oliver Wood who'll do anything to win the house cup. Oliver Wood and Katie Bell. Oliver and... He set his quill down, not entirely fascinated with The Latvian surprises victory on 1264. What about... Shit, he thought. Stop thinking like that. That's not what I am. I am Oliver Wood... I am-

"all right there, Ollie Wollie?" Came a cooing voice.

Wood snapped up, he must've been doing something odd. Oliver picked up his quill, which had leaked a small stain on his bedspread,

"I'm good, thanks. Just a little..."

Fred pulled on his sweater, "Right. No time to chat Ollie Wollie. I'm going to get a cake or two. I'll talk to you- my homophobic friend, later."

Oliver chucked his snitch shaped pillow at him as he ducked out the door.

There is a time, in every boys life when, as they become a man they ask themselves...

WHO THE FUCK AM I!

For 17 year old Oliver Wood, that time was now.

Let's see, thought Oliver, what do I already know?

I was born on New Years, thin and frail. 1 month early. Muggle doctors saved my life. I grew up a strange Muggle in Glasgow, son of a working class dad. Mam left. I got my letter and came to Hogwarts. i'm somewhat normal. Right?

Anyway- he didn't have time for such stupid questions. Getting up, book and pad tossed aside, now forgotten, he pulled gave his clock a glance. It was barely 10.30 but, for some odd reason- he was dead tired. Clearing his bed with one swift movement, he pulled his curtains shut and fell into a deep sleep.

He dreamt, but would not remember it...

_Someone was crying. Oliver looked up from polishing his broom. Who was it! Wandering through the rain he found Harry Potter, sprawled naked on the quidditch pitch, sobbing. _

"_Don't worry. I'm here" Oliver said, stroking his hair quietly._

_But Harry kept on crying._

"_Want to play some quidditch?" Oliver asked, but Harry responded by sobbing._

_Quietly, Oliver picked up the naked and shaking Harry. He was lean and fit and quite cold. Trembling, Oliver carried Harry up to the school and, as other students pelted him with fruit and vegetables, he carried Harry all the way to his bed._

"'_You're fine now, You're safe..." He coo'd._

_And, finally, Harry stopped crying. He kept on shaking for a moment, but stopped. Just as Oliver leant down to give Harry a kiss-_

Oliver sat bolt upright in his bed, he was drenched in a cold sweat. He looked at the clock, 3.30. This wasn't like him, wiping his brow he tiptoed out of bed and tiptoed down the staircase to the common room. Helping himself to a cup of room temperature water, he sat in the big armchair by the dwindling fire and stared.

"You ok?" A voice came from behind him.

Standing at the foot of the steps was chaser Katie Bell, in a tank top and PJ pants. Oliver stared at her large chest and found, to his horror, that he didn't care. He felt like sobbing.

"I'm great, thanks. Tired..." He got up and, pushing past her, made his way back to the dormitory.

This wasn't right. This wasn't him. This wasn't-

"Oh sorry." He'd just run smack into someone on the way to the bathroom,

"Harry?"

Harry, on his way to the bathroom, looked dead tired. His hair was in 10 different directions and he wore only a pair of boxers. He's beautiful, Wood thought. Than stopped.

"Lo Oliver," he murmured in his quiet voice.

Oliver scratched his head and started to walk the hall to his dormitory.

"Something you wanna talk about, palsy?" Katie's voice came from behind him.

"I'm really good," Oliver said.

"You sure? C'mon Wood. How long've we been friends?"

"Katie. I'm fine Just can't sleep- I mean... I'm exhausted. Night."

And with that, he opened the door to his dormitory, got in his bed and fell fast asleep- still worried about what was growing inside of him.

xX... ALL REVIEWS WOULD BE APPRECIATED! ...xX


	2. Chapter 2

xX... keep reading! PLEASE! REVIEW! ...xX

It was awful. There really was no escape and, by the end of third period, Oliver Wood wanted to burst.

Something would happen, something little. Something TINY but it would set him off. Everything that he'd buried when he went to sleep the night before. Mind you, that was at close to 4 or 4.30.

So, Oliver was tired, confused, a tad scared and a lot frustrated. First period had gone awfully, double potions were he had managed to loose 25 points plus the tops of his shoes. By the time third period rolled around, Oliver would've given anything to sit in the guy's loo and sob. Oliver Wood had never sobbed in his life, not even as a kid.

After a particularly long Transfiguration, Oliver hightailed it straight to the boys. The room was dark and damp and there was the smell of chlorine and wet things. A faucet dripped continuously. Oliver went to the sink and splashed some water on his face. For the past week now, he hadn't been sleeping. But today, today had been rock bottom. Utterly miserable, Oliver examined the bags beneath his eyes.

The door opened behind him, Oliver didn't even look up, he just gave a low groan.

"All right. I've had JUST about enough of this." A voice shot, dark and threatening. Oliver didn't even have to turn around.

"Katie, you're not allowed in the blokes loo." He said, picking up his book bag.

"I don't think so." She said and shoved him into a stall, looking the door firmly behind her.

"Ok," she spat, "I've had QUITE enough of this shit. For a week now, you mope, you look tired, you don't sleep you don't eat, you don't even yell at us anymore! Even Harry came to me and asked what's up!"

At the mention of Harry, Oliver felt his insides turn to mush and another wave quelled up about to hit him,

"I think I'm going to be..." He trailed off and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Staring at Katie, angry, frustrated, confused and a tad sad, sitting on the toilet seat in the guys loo made all thoughts of Harry and his awful new disease die quickly.

"Oliver please!" She begged, "What's up?"

Oliver stared at her for a moment, wondering which course of action to take. Either one would most likely require lying.

"I'm fine, Katie. Got the N.E.W.T.S, studying hard. I'm just bushed." He said and turned to go, but Katie grabbed his robes.

"Nah-uh!" She said, shaking her head. "We are not LEAVING this stall until you tell me what's the matter."

"Katie, really, We've got class in..." he glanced at his watch, "2 minutes!"

"Class is not quite as important," she said, making so as to "mock think", "I concur."

"This is ridiculous." Wood moaned and unlocked the door.

"Oh stop it!" Katie growled, on the verge of tears, "What the hell is the problem?" She looked at him, her face red. "Oliver? Just stop hiding for a moment and tell me, you're absolute number one best friend, what the matter is. That's all I ask. I'm worried and you're stuck in that "Oliver is a Man" state of mind where "I can deal with my own problems cuze I ain't got any cuze I'm a man and a strong one and I spit tobacco and look at porn!" and that's not it, though, Oliver. What the hell is this friendship about if there's no god damned trust!"

There was a long silence. The bell rang. Piercing the quiet. Oliver turned, unlocked the door and started to walk out.

"I'm just worried!" She called after him. The door opened. The door shut and Neville turned to Katie, still flabbergasted on the seat,

"Girls aren't allowed in here!" He shrieked.

XOXOXOXO

"Would you like to hear how it's progressing?" Fred said to Oliver, who was, supposedly, studying. Though the humongous bags under his eyes and the way he tilted his head made Fred think he wasn't getting much studying done.

"Not really." Oliver mumbled.

"Good, than. I'll tell you." Fred said and hoped up onto the table, crossing his legs, "I have crossed the front lines into the occupied territories!" Fred bellowed. But the phrase obviously did not have the effect that Fred had hoped it would have. Instead, Oliver merely hiccuped and looked at him with his hollow eyes.

"I've conquered the enemies! Solved the dispute! Reached a resolution!"

"NOT IN ANALOGY FORM, PLEASE! FRED!" Oliver said, not thinking his head could take it anymore.

"Her tits fell to me," Fred said happily, "After quite a prolonged battle, though."

Oliver sighed, always, he heard about Fred's escapades.

"And now" Fred beamed, "I have access to them any time, any where."

"Well, that's nice." Oliver said, now somewhat awake.

"More?" Fred asked cheekily.

"No thank you." Oliver said.

"I'm still pushing on towards Berlin though. The final prize!" He looked wistfully away.

Oliver always became Fred's unwilling confident. Since George mostly would want to talk about things that were not serious, Fred had to turn to his only other real guy friend, Oliver, to gloat, or make a plea.

Oliver was, as always, pleasantly disinterested.

"Well," Fred said, getting up, "I'll leave you to your studies. As you seem so hard at work. Don't rack your brain TOO hard!" Fred chirped as he left.

Finally, Oliver thought, alone. Sleep Sleep Sleep. Was the only thing he thought about. Catch up. He stumbled up the stairs to his dormitory. He could feel his pillow, his sheets, his comforter, he could finally get a moments sleep without thinking about his awful problem he could-

Oliver Wood stopped dead in his tracks as he stared in the open door to his dormitory.

Oliver Wood has seen a good many things at his years at Hogwarts School. He's seen almost everything. But he had never, ever, seen two people snog quite so ferociously before.

That was before he walked in on Ginny Weasley and Dean Thomas. What they were doing in Oliver's dorm he had no idea. But he wasn't going to put up with it. They'd JUST have to move. They were about to ruin the only good sleep he'd get or had gotten in at least a week and a half.

"Out," Oliver moaned, "Get oooout!" He groaned.

Dean immediately broke off, though he looked to be enjoying himself. Blushing profusely, they scampered out of the room, no doubt looking for another place to restart their escapades.

Oliver, collapsed onto his bed and fell into a deep fitful sleep...

XOXOXOX

"Oliver?" A soft voice called from somewhere in the distance.

Oliver threw up violently. He was jolted back to realty quite harshly. Harry Potter was standing over him, holding a trash can. Oliver was confused. Why was he vomiting like a maniac and why was Harry Potter holding a trash can under him?

"H-h-h-harrrry?" He croaked.

Harry nodded. Harry's chocolate brown zip-up hoodie and his jeans clung to his body.

"You're sick something awful," He murmured, picking up another trash can from another part of the room just in time for another wave.

"Did you feel all right today?" he asked.

Oliver shook his head. Hell no.

"Everyone's gone, 5th period." Harry explained, as if reading Oliver's expression, "I heard you moaning so I came in."

"Go...!" Oliver moaned.

"Trust me, I'm in no hurry to go to Potions," he laughed just as Wood spat up something brown and sticky.

There was an audible silence, of which at the end Oliver managed to get "I think it's done" out.

True his throat was dry and he was much to hot and he had a throbbing headache, but, on the whole, he felt much MUCH better.

Harry brought over a small cup of water, which he placed by Wood's bedside,

"Ok," Harry said, smiling at Wood, "I've sorta got to go."

Oliver's limbs turned to lead.

"No!" He said, hoarsely. Drinking some water so speech became much easier, "I'm really hot."

"God created you that way," Harry said, smirking.

"No..." Oliver laughed meekly, "REALLY hot. Help. Limbs... Can't..."

Harry got it. Cautiously, he moved closer to the bed and pulled off the comforter. Oliver was still in his school clothes.

"Shirt?" Harry asked. Oliver nodded.

Slowly and carefully, Harry helped Oliver pull his coat and tie off and finally, Harry unbuttoned all the buttons on Oliver's white shirt and he slid it off. Harry's hand accidentally brushed up against Wood's naked chest. Wood shuddered.

"You ok, now?" Harry asked.

"Shoes. Please." Oliver said. So, slowly and carefully, Harry removed Oliver's shiny black shoes.

"Fine?" Harry asked, now a little impatient.

What Oliver really wanted to say was "Pants" as he was burning up, but he thought better of it.

Oliver nodded. Harry smiled,

"Right than, you take it easy." Harry began to leave when it overtook Oliver,

"Pants. Please," he managed to get out. Harry heaved a long sigh,

"Just because you're the captain," he said and went back to Wood's bed. Nimbly, Harry undid the button on Oliver's pants, a wave of satisfaction shot through Oliver's body. Slowly, Harry, after unzipping the fly, worked the pants off Oliver's legs. Finally, he folded the pants and set them on the frame of the bed. Oliver was now shirtless and his boxers, drenched in a cold sweat. Instead of being hot, he was now shivering. Harry pulled the covers up to his chin,

"You're in bad way," Harry said gently, sitting on the edge of Wood' bed.

This wasn't right, thought Wood, I should be telling Harry to go. I can take care of myself. I can! I'm a... I've got no clue. He sighed and, clutching the covers, leaned back into his bed.

"Harry..." Oliver said hoarsely.

Harry looked up from a fringe he was playing with,

"Harry I... I think, well, I dunno, but I might- See, it's like this, it's just that, I really don't know-"

Harry laughed,

"You're delusional."

NO! Thought Wood, I almost got it out! I almost admitted it, that's the worst part. He just WASN'T normal.

"You need a little rest, tell me later. D'you want me to stay?" Harry asked.

Dilemma! Wood screamed in his head, does he be weak and say, "Yes, please, take care of me," or does he do what's normal. The normal male response. The normal WOOD response, "I'm good."

In the middle, Wood just grunted.

"Ah," said Harry. Smiling. "I'll stay."

Wood smiled and let out a breath. He pushed some hair of his forehand, he felt his hand become covered in sweat.

"D'you know what happened?" Harry asked.

Wood shook his head, "Not a clue..." He had a clue, but he didn't want to believe this clue.

He remembered his family. Such shame his older brother had brought on the family. His father had come to close to crying and his mom had almost disowned him. Thankfully, they said, we've got Oliver. Good old Oliver. Quidditch obsessed Oliver. THAT'S a man. Not like Geoff. Harry's voice jolted him from his musings,

"5th periods over," he whispered, "3.30"

Oliver looked at his watch, sure enough, it was 3.30.

"I better get going, I'll go down and tell McGonnagal where you were," Harry said, making his way to the door. He was halfway out of the door when he heard Wood's voice,

"T-t-thanks..." he said quietly and, as if that took an immense amount of effort, he collapsed back onto his pillows. Harry smiled to himself as he left the dormitory.

XOXOXOXOXO

Oliver's health improved greatly over the next couple of days. He was moved to the Hospital Wing, most likely for the best, but, thought Oliver, that meant he couldn't have Harry sit with him, or wait with him. Instead, he had curt Madam Pomfrey. Katie came to visit every day, much to Wood's embarrassment. They didn't talk, she just sat by his bedside and read. She was, evidently, a little angry that he wouldn't... couldn't... tell her what was the matter. In fact, he hadn't told anyone about what was going on, well, what was wrong with him.

On the end of Oliver's first week at the hospital, Katie got up abruptly.

"I've got to go. I've you want to talk..." she said and left hurriedly. This was unlike Katie.

Oliver only had minutes to ponder Katie's abrupt exit when another wave of vomit hit him like a ton of bricks and he collapsed into the trash can.

XOXOXOXOXO

Oliver returned back to Gryffindor tower two weeks later. Madam Pomfrey was worried about him, especially since she couldn't find a cause to this sudden and violent illness.

They tuesday was chilly, the beginning of November. Oliver was sure that the Quidditch team would be happy to see him out again, they'd lost their two games they'd played while he was out.

The common room was almost empty when Oliver got back, only Hermione and Ron Weasley remained, both pouring over large dusty books.

Hermione smiled and waved Wood over.

"Oliver! So great to have you book!" She said, Ron nodding.

Oliver smiled weakly, said he was tired and hurried up to the dormitory.

Much to his chagrin, Fred was still awake. He hurried Oliver out into the hallway,

"I've conquered Cologne!" He said, happily. Oliver groaned,

"Go on." He said.

"Angelina is now giving me access to..." He grinned sheepishly. Or was that slyly?

Oliver threw up his arms,

"For Christ sake! How do you pass your classes? You must be so busy."

"Don't worry," Fred said, "I'm not at Berlin yet. There's no... penetration...Yes..."

Fred laughed, they both sat down in the narrow hall and stared at a group of first years who looked at them strangely as they tried to get to their common room.

"'S good to have you back, mate," Fred said quietly, after a moment.

"It's good to be back," Oliver said.

"I really missed you," Fred said, now almost whispering.

And, without warning, Fred leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. They were quiet for a moment,

"Shit," Fred said, "Fuck fuck fuck..."

"No. It's ok. I don't care." Oliver said, reassuring.

"I don't know what the hell that was for," Fred said, still chastising himself.

"Fred. Calm down. I'm not freaked out... much."

Fred laughed nervously,

"I just don't-"

"Shut up about it!" Oliver said.

"Just don't go parading around naked anymore, or god knows what'll happen..." Fred murmured.

They laughed. But for Oliver it was nervous. What the hell was going on?

Fred got up and went to bed.

Oliver sat in the hallway for a little while longer.

Finally, light from the lamps dwindling, Oliver got off, took off his shirt and went back into the dormitory. The sound of 4 boys snoring was comforting and Oliver, taking off his pants, climbed into bed and, for the first time in weeks, slept peacefully.

xX... PLEASE REVIEW! ...xX


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